


and you might be afraid

by stardustgirl



Series: Collapse(s) [4]
Category: Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: (but still not really good), Angst, Child Abuse, Dark, Dark!Ezra, Empire Day, Ezra's about 13-14ish old in this?, Garel, Imperial AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inquisitor!Ezra, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Past Child Abuse, The Bridgers, The Most Wonderful Tales of the Year Writing Challenge, Very Very Angsty, Very very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 00:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: They're heading to Garel.  His master said something about keeping up appearances for the Empire.But all he can think about is how close she is, his master's sneer, and the weight of just how badly he kriffed up this time (and he won't be the only one affected, either).{A Collapse(s) Oneshot}(Technically takes place about 2-3 years before Collapse(s))





	1. prelude.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for "The Most Wonderful Tales of the Year Writing Challenge" on YWP.
> 
> December 13: "How does your villain/antagonist/antihero celebrate the holidays?"
> 
> TW: Child Abuse

He flinched as his door opened, glancing back as he turned to see his Master entering.  His gaze dropped to the floor as the Pau’an approached, closing his eyes briefly when the man’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Why aren’t you ready yet?”

“I- I….”

The man shook his head, sighing as he turned the boy around toward the mirror again.

“Tell me, boy, how are you today?”

The question caught him off guard and he tensed, swallowing as he scrambled to come up with an answer.

“I...I….”

He glanced up at the mirror finally, catching his Master’s slight smirk.  Swallowing again, he finally answered.

“I’m- I’m fine.”  Neither of them missed the way his voice cracked.

“I trust that you will have a good birthday,” his Master said finally, squeezing his shoulder in a way that was anything but comforting.

He left, leaving the boy to stare into the mirror and wonder what the blue-eyed creature that stared back was.


	2. catalyst.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Child Abuse, Choking

He exited the room quietly, not glancing back at the door as he headed to the atrium.  His Master had been speaking to Seven but stopped and turned, a slight smile forming as he recognized the boy.

“Ah, Apprentice.  Come here. We were just preparing to leave.”  He nodded and approached, stopping about a foot in front of his Master and dropping his gaze.  The Pau’an lifted his chin slightly with a hand, turning it as the boy stiffened and inhaled sharply.  Satisfied, he dropped his hand a moment later and watched with amusement as the boy’s gaze dropped again and he exhaled shakily.

“The transport’s ready; should we leave?”

He shifted his gaze slightly to Seven, still avoiding her gaze and swallowing anxiously.  At a nod from his Master, the trio, along with the two officers whose names he hadn’t learned yet, left the atrium of the complex and headed to the transport outside.

It was a moderate day on Garel for once, the kind that he never experienced on Mustafar and had only seen a couple of times on Coruscant.  But it wouldn’t matter anyway, except maybe to make the parade a bit more tolerable.

He sat sandwiched between his Master and, despite his attempts not to, Seven once inside the transport, half-tripping onto the seat while the other Inquisitors and even the officers sat more gracefully.

He subconsciously flinched away from Seven as the transport started, heading toward the city center.  She only chuckled softly in response, her helmet’s modulator making the sound more ominous than it had any right to be—though knowing Seven, it likely _did_ have a right to be.  He shivered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his Master eyeing him with faint amusement.  He stared at the ground again, gaze swiftly turning into a glare.

They reached the middle of the city after about twenty minutes and the group filed out, the boy behind his Master but in front of Seven.  He was more tense than normal the entirety of the short walk up to the platform, feeling both the vague threats coming through his bond with the Pau’an and Seven’s eyes on him.  As soon as they were in the small cluster on the platform that seemed to be the norm for them whenever they were out in public, he shifted so he was slightly behind both Inquisitors and so close to his Master the pair was nearly touching.

He had already mostly tuned out the anthem from the moment they had first stepped off of the transport, and the fact that it was now blaring loud enough to sound like someone was playing it on a holorecorder directly into his ear didn’t change it.  The Governor’s words fell on deaf ears as he stared out at the parade and surrounding crowd with indifference.

 _Chin_ up, _boy._  He swallowed and quickly raised his head slightly, glancing at his Master out of the corner of his eye to see a slight nod as the only sign of approval.

A phrase in the Governor’s speech suddenly caught his attention and he blinked, gaze sliding over to the man.

“...-sary of the arrest of the rebels who began the Bridger Transmissions, who are now dead, just as their message i—“

He didn’t know why he did what he did next, only that he regretted it immensely afterward.

“They’re not dead!”

_Child, if you so much as—_

“They’re not!” he continued to yell, ignoring the glances of shock and fury alike from around him as the parade ground to a halt.  The anthem continued, still just an irritating hum in the back of his mind as he continued yelling. “They’re not dead! I saw—“

He barely saw Seven’s outstretched arm in time to twist away, throwing a hand out and pushing her to the opposite side of the platform with the Force.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t catch the warnings from the Force until it was too late and his Master already had an iron grip on his arm that he couldn’t break even if he had tried.

Somehow, he still managed to continue shouting.

“I’m their kid, I’m their _son!_  I’m Ezra, Ezra Bridg—“

His windpipe closed up suddenly and he sputtered, clawing at his throat with his free hand.

_Next time remember your lightsaber._

He was hurled backward, slamming into the duracrete as his gaze blackened.


End file.
